Finding Mordor
by SQuishY.and.JaBBar
Summary: Finding Nemo is a very cute movie. Lord of the Rings is .. awesome. Put them together and tweak it a whole lot, and well, the results are as such. Read and review!
1. Chapter 1

**Finding Mordor  
****By Squishy**

Yeah, so this is a Lord of the Rings fiction! Woot! But, unfortunately, LotR isn't mine. However, if it WERE mine, you could rest assured that The Hobbit would be made into a Peter Jackson film. But Chris Tolkien is just a prick and should die and leave the rights to someone who actually deserves them (.i.e. ME ) instead of disowning his children -- ugh, the slimy git.

* * *

**Year 2968**

"Wow… " said a middle-aged hobbit. He was very short, which was quite normal for his kind, but his extra shortness gave him extra pride. He had large, hairy feet and the ears jutting out from the mess of dark, curly hair on his head sloped to a fine point. He was a hobbit – a hobbit named Drogo Baggins.

"Mm.." replied his mostly uninterested counterpart: his wife, Primula. She was only an inch taller than Drogo and had long sandy-brown hair that cascaded down her back into soft curls.

"Wow," he breathed.

"Mmmhmm.." She really didn't care. The two hobbits stood together outside their hobbit hole. Their home. There was a large (In comparison to their tiny stature, of course. If one of our human size stood next to it, one would have to crouch down low to enter.) circular green door cutting into the side of a hill, leading into a very large and cavernous, but very pleasant and humble abode. The hobbit hole was right on the river bank, with a tiny dock for their tiny boat not three feet from the door. The Branda-nîn River, sometimes called the Baranduin or Brandywine River, spread across before them, its vast golden-brown waters glittering in the afternoon sunlight.

"Wow," he sighed again.

"Yes, Drogo, I see," Primula cut him off, aggravated and rolling her eyes. "It's … beautiful."

"So, Primula," he said slyly. "When you said you wanted a view of the Branda-nîn, you didn't think you'd get the WHOLE river, did you?!" He walked up and sat on the edge of the dock, his toes just barely submerged into the cool water. He took a big breath and sighed. "Oh, yeah, a hobbit can _breathe_ out here. Barely any neighbors around, too! So did your hobbit deliver, or did he deliver?"

"My hobbit delivered." She replied, automatically, as she sat down and joined him.

"Because – "

"Because a lot of other hobbits had their eyes on this place!"

"You better believe they did. Every single one of them." He then continued, sounding less assured, "… So you do like it, don't you?"

"No no no! I do, I reeally do like it." She said. "But, Drogo, I know that the riverside is desirable with its seclusion, all the fresh fish you want, the amazing view and all that… but do we really need all this SPACE?"

"Primula, this is our** _son_** we're talking about!" he exclaimed. "I want only the best for our Frodo!"

Primula laughed. "Shh, you'll wake the baby."

They got up and looked at the riverbank, where a darling baby boy slept in a cradle, a soft breeze blowing the few wisps of hair he had on his pale head. He fidgeted, clenching his tiny fist.

"Aw look, he's dreaming…"

* * *

**Year 2980 (12 years later)**

"Frodo, sweetie," called Primula from outside. "Your dad is taking me on the river on his new boat to try it out. We'll be back before dinner, and DON'T get into any trouble!"

"Yes, Mum. Have fun!" he replied before going back to his book. He was much more interested in reading than he was in getting into trouble. He was the very image of his father: the pointed ears and large feet common to all hobbits, a mess of curly dark-brown hair, bright, shining eyes, and when he smiled, his cheeks flushed to an innocent shade of pink. He was twelve years old, and, quite unusual to most all hobbits, he loved to read and to imagine about far off places and about going on grand adventures.

He read and read and read some more, until his eyes began to feel sore. He didn't even notice that neither Primula or Drogo came home.

The next day, after sleeping in quite late, he heard a familiar tune being carried by the wind. He leapt up from his luncheon to see his favorite relative – Bilbo Baggins, strutting down the path to his home, whistling.

"Uncle Bilbo!" he cried, embracing him. Although they were both first and second cousins, once removed either way, to each other, their relationship was more that of uncle and nephew than of cousins. "Have you gone on any new adventures?! I want to hear all about it!"

His elder clasped his shoulder and laughed heartily as he came inside. "No, no, my lad," he said. "Not since the Dragon! I would like to return one day… However, I've simply come to visit your dad – where is he? I need to speak to him."

A wave of realization seemed to crash down on young Frodo. His eyes widened with fear. "T-they went out boating y-yesterday noon. I've only just noticed they – they never – "

He ran out of the hole and began to bolt up the riverside, looking, looking for _something_. Why, oh why didn't he say "Be safe!" of "I love you!" before they left? Why did he care more about the book he was reading than seeing his parents off? He KNEW that it was incredibly unsafe down-river, that the rapids were too dangerous – Mum had scolded him many times for going too close to the water- it was too deep and too powerful a current to fight --- He couldn't even bear to think about it any more. He just ran and searched.

Then he began to see traces... He saw scraps of wood painted red float along, some having found its way onto the sandy beach. And all at once his heart leapt into his throat and his stomach plummeted to a place far, far below where it ought to be.

When Bilbo caught up with him, Frodo was rocking back and forth, Primula's head resting on his knees, his small hand pressed against her soaked, tangled curls.

"Oh goodness, me" whispered Bilbo in shock.

Drogo lay, bloodied and still, next to her, and Bilbo could see that Frodo had dragged him over from a long ways off. It appeared that the boat had been tossed and smashed in the rapids, and that Drogo had been flung out of it to be beaten and battered by the rocks himself. Primula had drowned in the deep waters and was washed ashore

Tears streamed down Frodo's face as he rocked back and forth. He was drowning in guilt and denial and shock. Bilbo, unaware of what else to do, simply held Frodo in his arms. "There, there," he said. "Uncle Bilbo's got you. And I will never let anything happen to you, Frodo..."

* * *

**A/N; Meh. Seems like a good spot to stop, ne? Tell me what you're thinking! **

Edit (7.31.07): I changed some italics and whatnot. I took the advice of an intelligent reviewer. And I do so humbly and gratefully. Woot! So that should encourage YOU to review. Give me thoughts, criticisms, whatever. But be kind - being mean is a total waste of time, as I will automatically disregard everything you say. YAY!


	2. Chapter 2

**Finding Mordor  
****By Squishy**

Oh man, that last chapter was depressing, was it not?! Thank you to my two reviewers! Your encouragement is enough! To the Crazy One: thank you! – and I believe we have the same outlook on nasty reviews. :P Oh, and luckily for y'all, it'll get cheery from here, then depressing again, ... and so on and so forth.

Although I very much wish it to be, Lord of the Rings is not my property. But if I could just get the hang of my Imperius Curse and get it perfect, it WOULD be mine. Maybe in a few years...

* * *

**Year 2989**

In the Year 2989, Bilbo arrived on the doorstep of the Brandybuck family. Primula was a Brandybuck before she married Drogo, and it was her family that had been taking care of Frodo for the past nine years. They were nice people, but they were incredibly well-respected hobbit clan. This meant that they had no adventures, did nothing peculiar, and were quite, well, _normal_, which bored Frodo. However boring, though, he did admire them for being kin to many of the Shire Thains. Bilbo would visit from time to time, to check on him and simply be there for companionship. When Bilbo arrived this time, it was September 22nd: his twenty-first birthday and Bilbo's ninety-ninth birthday.

"Frodo, my lad!" he exclaimed, embracing his nephew-cousin. "Happy birthday!"

"Happy birthday to you, too, Uncle!" he said, grinning.

"Unfortunately, my visit today shan't be more than a few minutes," said Bilbo. Frodo's face fell. He relished Bilbo's visits, which usually lasted for a few days. "But, fortunately, you will be returning with me! I have taken guardianship over you, m'boy."

Immediately, Frodo's entire face lit up, his cheeks turning pink, reminiscent of his late father.

Frodo packed his bags immediately, and thanked his Brandybuck family immensely. And they were off. The two left their home in Buckland and traveled all the way into the Westfarthing, to Hobbiton. The two finally came to rest in Bag End, just above the lane of Bagshot Row. The foremost part of the property was fenced by a small, hobbit-sized picket fence. In the front of the hobbit hole, there was a large, round, bright green door with a big brass knob. There were many round windows looking into its many rooms, and there was a very expansive and well cared for garden off to the side.

"Bilbo, I've never seen Bag End before!" said Frodo excitedly as they entered Bag End.

"And how do you like it?"

"Oh, it's wonderful!" There were numerous rooms – too many to count at first glance.

"Good, good," said Bilbo, chuckling. "I inherited it from my parents – Bungo and Belladonna. Oh, and sometimes you might see some of my other relatives come – the Sackville-Bagginses – and if they come, I'm not at home. I'm _never_ at home for them."

"May I ask why?"

"They want Bag end, of course! For some reason, they believe they have some claim to it, and since I have no heir, they are especially persistent. Hopefully no longer..."

Frodo looked at him inquisitively, saying nothing but still encouraging him to continue.

"... Ah yes, Frodo, as you are now under my care, you are officially my adopted heir."

The young hobbit flushed with gratitude and stammered his gratitude.

"Welcome back, Master Baggins Sir!" said a jolly voice from outside. "Didn't expect you back so early!"

"Hallo there, Samwise!" smiled Bilbo, greeting a young, slightly heavy-set hobbit, about the same age as Frodo, with curly, golden hair. Standing next to him, beaming, was a man who looked just like him, but many years older and a bit taller. "Frodo, this is Samwise Gamgee, and his Gaffer, Hamfast Gamgee. They manage the grounds here at Bag End."

"And a wonderful job they do of it too!" cried Frodo, shaking their hands. "Wonderful to meet you!"

* * *

Over the next twelve years, they lived together like best friends and cousins and nephew-and-uncle alike. Bilbo taught him many things, including elvish and some of the ways of the outer world. Many times, Gandalf the Wizard called on them to visit. Frodo loved those times – and many of the younger children (who were young enough not to care that Gandalf was, indeed, a "disturber of the peace") would follow him around Hobbiton to see his infamous fireworks, clapping and laughing at the small explosives. Frodo and Samwise also became great friends, as well, although Samwise would ever insist on calling him "Mister Frodo." **

* * *

**

The long expected party celebrating both Frodo's and Bilbo's birthdays – Frodo being thirty-three now, and Bilbo being eleventy-one – was over. In the middle of his grand speech, he vanished into thin air. No doubt, Frodo knew, that he had used his magic ring – the one he'd found on his adventure with Gandalf, Thorin Oakenshield, and the other dwarves from the Lonely Mountain.

"Bilbo?" he called, running into Bag End. His small, golden ring lay on the ground just beyond the front door. He picked it up. "Bilbo, where are you?"

The tall, grey wizard sat by the fire, puffing a long wooden pipe. He was deep in thought. "Gandalf?"

"Ah, Frodo, my lad. Bilbo's gone – he went to stay with the elves. Bag End is yours, now," said Gandalf, answering Frodo's unasked questions. "Oh! Bilbo's ring... May I?"

Gandalf grabbed the ring quickly out of Frodo's palm, and, treating it like it were too hot to touch, tossed it immediately into the fire place.

"AHHH! What are you doing?!?!" cried Frodo as Gandalf tossed the red-hot ring back into his palm.

"Don't worry. It's quite cool."

And so it was – Frodo felt a slight tingling sensation emanating from the ring rather than the scalding pain he had anticipated.

"That – " said the Wizard. "is none other than the ring of the Dark Lord Sauron himself. And, it seems that Gollum revealed all the information that would lead them straight into your home and destroy EVERYTHING you know and love! Now, because I am cunning and know how to weasel out of commitment while sounding like I might actually be helping, what are **you** going to do about it?"

Frodo blinked his huge eyes. They stared at each other for a long time.

"**AAAA--CHOO!" **erupted a very loud sneeze from just outside the parlor window.

Gandalf snuck up to it, and bopped whomever it was outside right on the head with his staff, and dragged them inside by the collar.

"Sam!" said Frodo, instantly recognizing the tubby hobbit with dirt all over his hands and fingers.

"Well, that settles it!" said Gandalf, clapping his fists together. "It's time. Off you go! I'll meet you in Bree, at the Prancing Pony, Mr. Underhill."

And with that, two very confused hobbits by the names of Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee (who was forced to tag along by threat of being turned into a frog) left Bag End, Hobbiton, and all they knew and treasured for an adventure that would change their lives forever.

* * *

**A/N; As you can see, I'm not just writing the entire Finding Nemo script and changing names to Lord of the Ringy names. I'm actually attempting a storyline! Also, I am incredibly lazy and don't feel like rewriting the Lord of the Rings book or movie. I'm planning on skirting around the crisped edges and ironed out details. If you are a fan of LotR, I would assume you know the plot, and I really don't feel like ripping off JRRT and passing it off as my own too much. Next chapter will have more Nemo integration once we get Pippin and Meriadoc into the picture. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Finding Mordor  
****By Squishy**

I don't really want to research my bum off to get every tiny detail, so the last chapter was the conclusion of keeping track of years. I didn't want to keep saying "and a really long time later... blah blah blah happened." because it wouldn't make much sense. So, for now, you're on your own as far as keeping track of time's passage. You can interpret it as events happening one after another like in the movies, or months and months apart like it is in the books. Artistic License and Reader's License.

I have recently acquired my very own hobbit hole in the West Farthing of the Shire, by Woody End. Although this purchase of land does, in fact, include me in partial ownership of it, I do not possess complete rights over the Lord of the Rings. Perhaps once I develop strongholds within the prime real estate that is the Shire, I will have enough influence to spread across Middle Earth, eventually taking over.

* * *

Frodo and Sam, their backs laden with heavy satchels, trudged through the Shire, going south of Hobbiton, towards the South Farthing. They were simply passing through Tuckborough, asking for help – "Can you point me to the best direction to get to Bree?" "Excuse me, miss, do you know how I can get to Bree?" – but received no aid. No hobbit seemed to want anything to do with an **adventurer**. Goodness, no! They were quite befuddled, and kept asking hobbit after hobbit after-- 

"WAA! LOOK OUT!" screamed a hobbit, who was running straight towards him. He couldn't seem to stop, however, and crashed straight into poor Frodo.

"Gerroff him, you!" snarled Samwise, yanking the golden-haired hobbit off of his master. He was young, lean, and especially light on his feet for a hobbit.

" 'allo there Frodo!" said the grinning hobbit lightheartedly, as though he had not just tackled him to the ground but had met him just casually walking down the lane.

"Pippin Took," said Frodo, rubbing his head where an unknown and particularly boney appendage had collided with his skull. "It's been a while since I'd last seen you."

"Now wot are you lot doin' in The White Downs?" Pippin asked, looking back and forth between Sam and Frodo. "I insist that you spend the night with me 'n me family!"

And so, Samwise and Frodo spent the night in the luxurious and lavish home of the Tooks. Pippin's father was Thain Paladin II, and thus they were very well off.

Once inside, two older hobbits immediately came to greet them, and introduced themselves as Thain Paladin and Eglantine – Pippin's parents. Eglantine embraced them all, cooing as any mother would. Paladin, dressed in very fine hobbit clothing, shook their hands with a big grin, but remained stately.

A younger face popped out into the foyer. She was almost identical to Pippin – very thin, and taller than most, with pure golden hair framing her bright face. "'ey Mum," she said. "Who's Peregrin got over now?"

"Now now, Pearl," scolded Eglantine. "That isn't half decent a thing to say in front of today's guests."

"This 'ere's Misters Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee," said Paladin. "They're from up in Hobbiton." The eldest Took daughter smiled and shrugged, walking away.

Peregrin "Pippin" Took was heir to his father to be the next Shire-Thain, and despite his fathers favor for being his only son. Pippin often invited guests over without consideration as to his parents' wishes, as his father promoted a lot of social interaction for his heir. His elder sisters Pearl, Pimpernel and Pervinca never seemed to mind their father's favoritism but for when it came to guests. The girls always wanted to invite friends to dinner and very rarely succeeded in obtaining permissions.

It was a pleasant, hobbit-y evening. The dinner was divine and abundant. Afterwards, Frodo and Sam sat with Pippin, belts loose and, thanks to the wine, their tongues were even looser. They explained everything to him, about the Dark Lord Sauron and the Ring of Power...

Quite a long time later, after a brief pause, Pippin scratched his head. "Well," he said. "I don't quite understand how this Sauron got off getting all that power in the first place..."

Sam rolled his eyes. "That's **completely** off the point."

"Ahh, the point!" winked Pippin. "Merry can help us get to Bree lickity split!"

* * *

In the morning, the three left in search of Pippin's greatest friend and cousin, Meriadoc Brandybuck, who they meet at the Brandywine Ferry. As they crossed the river from the Marish into Buckland, they discussed everything they'd just explained to Pippin earlier. Surprisingly enough, Merry knew all about Sauron's Ring and his Darkness that covered the world. He wasn't at all shocked to hear that the ring Bilbo found in Gollum's cave beyond the goblin city was THE. RING. 

They came ashore, and just as they were about to head off to Buck Hall, Merry's home, Frodo looked back across the vast waters of the Brandywine. Frodo felt a pang of longing for his parents, and he felt the ever so familiar sting of pain, guilt, and nausea as the waters where Drogo and Primula died dampened the thick hairs on his large feet.

He was snapped out of his inner mourning by an involuntary shudder. He felt cold and miserable – as though all the happiness in the world had gone. There, on the opposite shore, stood a fearsome black steed with dark eyes and hooves bloodied from being pushed too far. It huffed and puffed and bucked its head back, rejecting its bit. Seated menacingly on top of the horse was a large figure, hooded and cloaked in heavy black fabric. It was about four times the size of an incredulously tall hobbit, and larger still than Gandalf.

"Bloody 'ell," breathed Pippin, whose wandering eyes had fallen on it, too. "What the ---- is that!?"

"I don't rightly know," said Samwise. "And I don't mean to find out either."

"Let's go," said Merry. "I know a short-cut through the Old Forest we can take to Bree."

* * *

**_By the way ... Kudos to any of you who are mourning the loss of the Tom Bombadil and the Barrow-Downs scenes right now. If you've no clue what that is, don't bother trying the extended versions of the movies. Just read the effing books. You'll like yourself more for doing so, trust me._**

* * *

They reached Bree with some close scrapes, but no incredibly unmanageable maladies. (Again, go read if you don't know what I'm talking about.) Gandalf was not to be found at the Prancing Pony Inn. The innkeeper Mister Butterbur led them into the main parlour to dine and drink. They were surrounded by a very diverse company of guests. There were hobbits, local men, men from the South, traveling dwarves, even a Ranger from the North was there. He kept himself tucked away in a corner, simply observing from hidden within his dark gaze. 

After supper, Merry left for a brisk evening walk while Sam and Pippin fetched themselves large mugs of alcohol. It did not take Pippin long to get too inebriated with ale. He began to brag about the Shire and of Bilbo's party, the men who listened were simply interested in watching the funny little drunk hobbit for a good laugh.

Frodo panicked... they needed to keep a low profile from here on out, and talk of a hobbit disappearing at his eleventy-one-th birthday party would be anything but that. He couldn't think of anything else to do but... And then he found himself on top of the table, leading them in a pathetic drinking song and dance. He leapt off the table, but as he did so, the Ring accidentally slipped over his finger and he vanished.

Chaos ensued as those who saw it freaked out. Some looked for trap doors while others chewed the barkeep out for making their drinks wrong.

Frodo reappeared beneath a table. He crawled out, trying to play it off as having slipped beneath the table. Many of them, convinced or otherwise, simply left the common room at that point.

He sighed, the adrenaline passing for the most part.

"Hello." said a deep, rich, and dangerous-sounding voice. "Th'name's Strider." Frodo leaped with fright and looked up, wide-eyed and fearful into the deep brown eyes of the scraggly Ranger. He out-stretched out his hand to the little hobbit. Frodo didn't take it.

Merry burst into the parlour, out of breath.

"That rider we saw on the bank..." he panted. "There are more and they're here in Bree. They're looking for it. I saw 'em on my walk... and ran back as fast as I could."

"Right," said Strider. "This way, then." He led them up to his chambers.

… _doo doo doo walking theme song goes here… dooodoo…_

"My true name is Aragorn," said the man. "Though some who know me as a Ranger call me Strider, others still have other names for me. It has been appointed to me, in the event of the Wizard's absence, that I be your guide."

"And where 'xactly are you guiding us?" slurred Pippin, followed by a minute hiccough. Merry added, "...And what in the world ARE those things?"

"Hate to say it, but he's right," muttered Sam. "How do we know you'll keep your word rather than give us to the Black Riders?"

"Ah... I understand... Why trust a Ranger?" said Aragorn, turning his back to them. In one swift motion, he flung his sword from its scabbard, twisting back around, and carrying the motion of the sword through. The blade whooshed past Sam's head, slicing a few hairs from his forehead. Aragorn laughed heartily at seeing their faces.

"So... since Gandalf will not be coming anytime soon," he said, regaining his intimidating composure once more. "Why don't you morsels come along to a little..._ get-together_ I'm attending."

"You mean like a party?!" smiled Pippin – he was sold.

"Yea, yea, s'right! A party!"

"Mister Frodo," said Sam. "I – I don't think—"

"Oh, come on, I insist!" The four hobbits all jumped as they heard screeches coming from their would-be hobbit accommodations as the Dark Riders "killed" feather-filled dummies and destroyed the entire room with rage.

"W-w-w-well," stammered the gardener. "I g-guess that's all that matters..."

**

* * *

**

**A/N: I seem to stop after every 3 or 4 pages on MS Word. Weird how it works out that way. I'm sorry. I COULDN'T resist the Harry Potter reference there... hehehe OH, and obviously, **_my_** beloved Peregrin is hand-in-hand with Dory, and Aragorn is Bruce, the great white shark. The part of Marlon has thus far gone to Bilbo AND Sam. Oh well. It works out better this way, methinks.**

**Tell me what you're thinking!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Finding Mordor  
****By Squishy**

I quite apologize if I do not live up to certain… standards. This is not meant to be the absolute perfect cross-over, in fact, it's barely a cross-over at all. It is 8 parts LotR and 1 part Finding Nemo, each storyline being altered a LOT to fit somehow. This means not having every part in order. I fully accept that my story cannot and will not be the next Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead – a Hamlet fanfiction that was published and marketed. No matter what, the important thing is that I make **me** happy. And I **do**. -

ALSO! Thank you very much to all my reviewers! Gord and V, The Randomist, biach goddess leah, Duct Tape Kitten, xCrazyforRemusLupinx, and lotrelves! LOVE YOU ALL!

I have a feeling that some may hate me for the Nemo reference here with the elves, but it cannot be helped. Throw your stones. I can take them all and build a castle. Muahahaha

**Disclaimer: **_Sauron said he'd give me half of Middle Earth. But he hasn't been returning my phone calls.. or my emails... not even my Facebook pokes!! I'm starting to worry... : \_

* * *

The four hobbits helplessly trudged along after Aragorn. As they walked, they nagged the mysterious man until he explained everything.

The rider in black that was spotted by the Brandywine Ferry and the identical riders Merry had seen in Bree were Ringwraiths. They were the Nazgul, the personal servants and the go-fers of the Dark Lord Sauron himself. A shadow of evil had begun to grow in the East, and they were sent out to scour the land for the One Ring. The power called out to them, they who once were the nine great, but greedy, Kings of Men.

The hobbits bickered with and snipped at each other, cranky without their multiple meals. Pippin was particularly fussy. Being the youngest of the four, and the wealthiest, he was a bit spoiled and found it hard to adjust to life outside hobbit culture.

Finally, at one point, Pippin just could not handle it anymore. The rumbling in his stomach could no longer be ignored. He picked up an acorn and chucked it: the nut finding its mark on the back of Aragorn's head. The Ranger, however, paid him no mind. He carried onward. Several acorns later, Aragorn stopped to face the short and scared hobbit.

"What?" he said.

Pippin glowered. It wasn't so intimidating, as it just came off as an adorable pout. "I. am. Hungry." His eye twitched. Hobbit meals are serious business.

"Very well," conceded Aragorn. "One QUICK meal. And then no more stops until nightfall."

The hobbits agreed to these terms greatfully, and flopped down on their rumps to eat. Aragorn was clearly miffed by this, and sat himself down, leaning against a tree stump and began to dose.

Pippin peered right into his face, his mouth filled with potatoes and carrots. "Hey, Mr. Grumpy-swordzz," he said. Aragorn did his best to ignore the bizarre little hobbit. "When life gets you down, you know what you gotta do?"

"No, I don't and I don't want t-"

Pippin cut him off, bursting into song and shoving food items into Aragorn's face. "Just keep eating! Just keep eating! Just keep eating eating – what do we do, we eat eat. A-ha-ha-hoo I love to eaaat fooood. When you waaaant to eat you just-"

Aragorn shoved the hobbit off of himself. "Would you quit with that song?! Agh Now it's in my head!!!"

Pippin giggled sheepishly and continued his meal in peace.

They finally stopped at Weathertop, well after night fell. The watch tower's ruins revealed much of the surrounding area. The hobbits sought shelter in a small alcove in the stones, and there they rested their feet and began preparing a meal. Strider, who was very talented at recognizing trails, searched the area and found evidence of Gandalf, who must've passed through a few days ago. There were fairly recent remnants of a doused fire, as well as Longbottom Leaf ashes from the pipe he so often used when deep in thought.

* * *

Five of the wraiths gathered in the dell below Weathertop. Each glared menacingly up towards the dining hobbits. They kept their distance, however, as they were opposed to the flames. The light made them weak, and they avoided it at all costs.

The largest and scariest of the wraiths stood before the other four and said in a terrifying voice, "All right, the meeting has officially come to order. Let us all say the pledge."

All of the Nazgul joined in chorus, raising their right ghost-like hands and said, "I am a Ring Wraith, superior killing machine. If I am to find the Ring, I must first find the hobbit. Sauron rules, humans **drool."**

"All right then. I will start the testimonies," said the leader wraith. "My name is Witchking."

"Hello, Witchking." They all replied in unison. They would have rolled their eyes if they had them.

He raised a ghostly arm. "It has been three weeks since my last hug, on my honor! Or may my head be chopped up and made into soup."

The others applauded him.

"You're an inspiration to us all!" one cried out.

"Amen!" another agreed.

"Oh look!" one of he wraiths pointed up the hill towards a faint light. "Hobbits!"

Witchking smiled and their meeting immediately ended.

* * *

Five large shadows creeped up on the four in the darkness, and as their fire died down and immersed them into the night, they attacked.

The hobbits scrambled to find their small daggers – large swords to them – and they hopped to their feet, still unsure of how to defend themselves and how to actually use their swords. Frantic in the darkness, Samwise, Meriadoc, and Peregrin bravely attempted to defend Frodo and the Ring. But Frodo couldn't resist – he wanted to disappear out of sight of these creatures. He wanted all four of them to disappear and come back somewhere safe. He slid the ring onto his finger and was immersed into a shadow-world.

Frodo, now invisible, was dazed by the swirling mists around him. He could, however, see the wraiths distinctly. He backed away as fast as he could, knowing full well that they could now see him just as sharply. His stomach dropped heavily with impending doom and he felt his mistake.

Three of the wraiths shoved the other hobbits to the side, disregarding them completely. Frodo felt a bit relieved for a very short instant, knowing his friends were safe for the time being. It was a relief that, in the next instant, was completely shattered. The five wraiths created a formation towards and around him, trapping him. Frodo wrenched off the Ring with the hopes of becoming difficult to see once more, but there was no hope anymore. One of the five approached him, and Frodo slashed at its feet, or where its feet ought to have been. The wraith screeched with a penetrating, shrill, agonizing squeal. The sound was excruciatingly painful for all the hobbits, and they all doubled over, clutching their large, sensitive ears in pain. Then the foremost Black Rider, quite obviously their leader, attacked Frodo and stabbed him in the shoulder.

It was then that they were saved, quite miraculously, by Aragorn, who ran in swinging a torch and his own razor-sharp sword, Andúril. He fought the wraiths off, who were stunned and weakened by the light of the torch.

As soon as his battle was over, he rushed over to Frodo, around whom the others were huddled. Frodo's eyes were rolled back into his head, the open sockets revealing only the white-and-bloodshot sclera. His body was doused in a clammy sweat and he was going into shock. Blood oozed from around the blade, sticking straight up from between his shoulder and collarbone.

Aragorn slowly pulled on the wraith's dagger until it slid from the little hobbit's flesh. In his hand, the blade dissolved into nothingness.

"A Morgul blade..." he said. "He will soon fall into the darkness, becoming one of them."

Pippin let out in involuntary squeak.

"What do we do?" cried Merry. "We can't just sit here and let him die like this!"

"He needs elvish medicine, come."

Sam had instantly whipped out a cloth, wetted it and laid it on his forehead to try and cool him down. His face was contorted with complete and total worry for his friend. But Frodo was already slipping from consciousness...

* * *

"_Duude..."_ said a strange, musical voice in the nothingness_. "Duuuude..."_

Something or someone was calling him from his place of peace. He was so comfortable and warm, and he didn't want to get up. But the voice persisted and he finally gave in to it.

Frodo allowed himself to crack open one eye to see a large, human-like face peering down at him. He was incredibly tall and he had fair skin and long, dark hair. The grey eyes stared at Frodo as if examining him. His ears slid to slight point, revealing his elven race.

"Ai, he lives! Hey dude!" laughed the elf, his eyes twinkling with a light that shines on elves alone.

Frodo sat up and groaned. He felt kind of sick.

"Woah, no hurling on the floors, okay? Just waxed 'em. ...Oh, and such a lucky thing I saw those wraiths coming and sent somebody out to find you, dude. Glorfindel saw the whole thing, man."

It was then that Frodo noticed a second elf standing behind the other. He too was very fair and tall. He stood straight and proud, and his golden hair shined in the mid-afternoon sunlight. His eyes were bright and when he smiled, it brought joy to Frodo's heart. Frodo had heard of the grace and beauty of all elves from Bilbo, but actually feeling the effect was quite different than imagining it.

"Yea, man," said Glorfindel. "First the wraiths were like WOAH. Then you were all like **WOAAAH**! Then you were like… _woaah_."

"...What are you talking about?" mumbled Frodo. He had done his best to learn elvish with Bilbo, but this was just ridiculous.

"**You, **mini-man!" chuckled the first elf. "Takin' on the wraithies. Awesome – you've got serious thrill issues, dude."

"Uh.. Mr. Elf..." Frodo started.

"Dude." The elf seemed a bit taken aback. "Mr. Elf is my **father**. The names Elrond Half-Elven."

" 'Half'? Really? Okay.. Um.. Elrond, I need to get to Rivendell. The Last Homely House?"

The two elves chuckled to themselves knowingly. "Hah-hah. You're HERE, dude! Come on, take a look!"

He helped Frodo out of the very large, very fluffy and very comfortable bed to an open window. It revealed a large complex of elvish homes, buildings which seemed one with nature. Rivendell lay on the edge of a narrow gorge in the Misty Mountains, the river Bruinen flowing fast between the rock walls.

Just below the window, in a peaceful courtyard, stood two elves, clad in elvish armor. They had been talking with each other, but in sensing Frodo's gaze, they looked up. Each had a face identical to the other, and both looked just like Elrond. Their hair was a lighter shade of brown and their eyes were both a very bright shade of blue.

They both grinned and waved up at Frodo and Elrond.

Elrond introduced them loudly, "Offspring, Wraith-man. Wraith-man, Offspring."

"Wraiths?!" said one of the twins. "Sweet."

"Totally." agreed the other, nodding his head. These were two of Elrond's three children: the twin brothers Elladan and Elrohir, the youngest being his beautiful daughter Arwen Undómiel.

"Chya. Elladan 'n Elrohir are going to check out the remains of those Nazgul Wraiths, man."

"After you passed out, man," said Glorfindel. "I took you from Aragorn and brought you here on my glorious steed Asfaloth. Dude, those wraiths totally wanted you. They followed us the whole way to the Bruinen river ford. Dude-Elrond and Dude-Gandalf totally saved us by workin their maagic on the riiverr… Sweeet."

"Yea, so tomorrow, mini-man," said Elrond. "We'll be having a meeting to decide the fate o' that ring thing you got. Be there or be square, dude."

"O.. Kay?"

"Peace out!" the two elves said, bowed elegantly and left the room.

Frodo was **very** confused.

* * *

**A/N: Well, it's been a while, but that's because I was on vacation on Assateague Island, Maryland! And I just moved into college! Scaryy **_(I'm a freshman again. Damn.)_

**As usual, tell me what you're thinking!**


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